


A Light in the Storm

by Navy_Blue



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Flashback, Fluff, M/M, Storms, captain flint ft a dream of london
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 18:18:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13082574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Navy_Blue/pseuds/Navy_Blue
Summary: Flint tires to go to sleep in a storm and ends up thinking about london and thomas





	A Light in the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> i've written a lot of uni essays today so plz forgive any spelling/grammar/glaring issues in this. Words are starting not to look like words...

Whoever was supposed to fix the gaps around the windows of his cabin had done a fucking poor job, thought James. He made a mental note to reprimand whoever was responsible as he felt another blast of air on the back of his neck. The Walrus pitched and heaved as the storm swelled around her, and icy wind howled through the cracks around his window. 

It wasn’t their worst storm, not by a long way, but it was following them down the coast. For days now, they had been subjected to wind, rain and the heaving black waves. Despite his crew’s strange belief that he was some master of the elements, and that he controlled the tempests with his emotions, James didn’t really like this sort of weather. Of course, he would be a fool not to be in awe of the power of the sea at times like this, but the practical reality of being stuck in the middle of the storm was wearing. He longed to be back in the calmer blue waters near Nassau. Back in the sun.

He lay down, not for a moment thinking he would get any sleep, but his head hurt, and his eyes were tired from peering at the tiny letters on his charts. He closed his eyes, and tried to imagine himself anywhere but in the middle of this bloody storm.

His mind wandered, lulled into a half-sleep by the sound of the rain lashing against his window. He was brought back to London, and the storm that had passed over the south of England during the summer he had spent making plans with Thomas. It had been one of the worst on record. It had tipped ships in the docks and torn trees from their roots in Hyde Park. While much of London had been flooded by the rising Thames, the Hamilton’s own house had suffered little damage, save a few roof tiles. James had lived at the Hamilton’s for two weeks during that storm. His own small attic flat had succumbed to the rain on the first evening, and had to wait be repaired until the winds had died down. 

The rain had hit the windows of Thomas’s room, hard. A draught whirled down the chimney and blew against James’s feet. He woke to cold and darkness.

There was a stirring next to him as Thomas woke too, looking up at him with concerned eyes that reflected the little light that was coming from the cloud-covered moon. He stretched, taut muscles moving beneath pale skin. The moonlight cast a faint glow about his hair, turning it silver. Even in the low light James could not help but marvel at his lover.

“What is it, dear?”

“The rain woke me,” he peered down at Thomas through the gloom, whose attention had turned to the windows and the rain hammering them. “This storm’s awfully strong, I can’t imagine how my apartment is faring.”

“No, well, you can stay here for as long as you need. I rather like having you in my bed.” Thomas grinned slowly.

“It certainly is- convenient.” James agreed, blushing as his eyes adjusted to the dark and he realised the grey mass in the corner was the shirts he and Thomas had hurriedly torn of one another a few hours ago. He was glad it was dark enough that Thomas wouldn’t be able to see the flush on his cheeks. “I am glad I am not overstaying my welcome.”  
Thomas chuckled beside him, languidly snaking an arm around James’s middle. He could feel Thomas’s arms, hot through the fine material of the shirt he had borrowed. 

“Not nearly, my dear, you’ve made yourself very useful.” Thomas mumbled into his neck, his breath warm against James's cool skin.

James smiled. “It seems I have found a use for you too, my Lord.”

“Mm?”

“You make a rather good hot water bottle.”

He felt Thomas’s laughter shake the mattress next to him. Thomas pressed himself against James’s back, wrapping his arms around his middle, sighing contentedly. Despite the rain and the draught, James felt incredibly warm and safe. He allowed himself to be lulled into sleep by the sound of the rain and the feel of Thomas’s chest against his back as his breathing turned into a gentle snore.

He woke while it was still dark. There was no warmth, no other person now. His back was bare and there were no loving hands stroking his belly or lips placing soft kisses between his shoulders. It was dark and grey and cold. Somewhere, deep inside him, he knew he would be with Thomas again. It didn’t matter where; Heaven and Hell seemed one and the same if he was to be with Thomas for eternity. First, however, he would make England pay for talking away his warmth and light.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man also HOT-WATER BOTTLES. There's some evidence that they existed in the early 1700s but no one will clearly say! It's massively annoying. But for the purposes of this fic, let's just say the hamiltons are ahead of their peers and have invested in a stoneware water bottle. oooh that's a whole other fic idea..
> 
> Feel free to leave kudos or a comment. Or if you really enjoyed it give a student a coffee: http://ko-fi.com/navyblue


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